“I wouldn’t mind being an intern for a summer. Sounds fun.”
“It is for them. It’s hell for those of us who are working full-time. We work all day and then have to party with the interns at night and on weekends. I’m exhausted, and we still have several weeks of summer left. Not to mention, it doesn’t leave any time for a personal life.”
“That sounds dreadful. Can’t you just opt out of participating?”
“Not if I ever want to make partner at the firm. Only team players make the cut.”
Her tone is laced with sarcasm. It’s as if she’s been fed that line a few too many times.
“That’s rubbish. Making partner should result from being an outstanding lawyer, not your partying skills and ability to withstand sleep deprivation.”
“You’d think. But that’s not how it works at the top law firms in the US. I’m sensing you’re not from the US though. Your accent makes me think you’re from the UK. Am I right?”
“You are. I’m from London.”
“What brings you to Los Angeles?” she asks, pronouncing each word slowly as if the whiskey is taking effect.
“Business. My dad was supposed to be here before he came down with pneumonia and couldn’t travel. I'm his replacement.”
“I’m sorry he’s s..ee..ck, ... um ... but I’m glad you’re heeere,” she says slowly, leaning her head against my shoulder.
“Me too. Are you feeling better?”
She hiccups. “Uh-huh. The dark helps. Can’t see how close the ... um ... walls are. And this ... um ... whis’ey is really ... um ... good stuff,” she giggles.
I’m relieved she’s no longer panic-stricken. On the other hand, the way she’s slurring her words suggests she’s on her way to being sloshed. “I could use a drink myself,” I say, hoping to slow her alcohol consumption. I would’ve intervened sooner, except in the darkness, I didn’t realize she’d still been drinking.
“Sure. One . . . more . . . teeny . . . sippy . . . for . . . me . . . um . . . first.” Hiccup.
Instead of telling her that’s a bad idea, I reach out in the dark. Feeling the flask, I gently tug it away, saying, “Thanks. My turn now.”
I shake the flask to gauge how much she’s had. It’s bloody empty. No wonder she’s slurring her words. It’s okay though. I’d rather deal with her being pissed than scared. She can sleep it off.
“Okey dokey.” She nuzzles her head into the crook of my shoulder, draping her arm across my torso. “Mmm. You smell nice. I ... um ... lick,” she mumbles.
Oh no. She’s sniffing my neck as if she’s planning to actually lick me. I’d definitely be up for this if she weren’t pissed. This isn’t good. She’s well beyond the ability to consent.
Before I can say anything, she adds, “Oops. I meant ... to say ... um ... I ... um ...likethe ... um ... waaay you ...um ... smell.” She snickers as I move her head to rest it against my jacket rather than my bare neck.
Sloshed Brooke is adorable, as evidenced by my hardening cock. Unfortunately, the timing is bad, so I attempt to redirect the conversation, asking, “How long do brownouts usually last?”
She sighs. “A while . . . long enough . . . um . . . for a nap. Wake meee . . . uh . . . up when i’s o’er.”
A few seconds later, she’s snoring softly with her head on my chest and arms wrapped around me. That’s probably for the best. I close my eyes to thoughts of how perfectly this beautiful woman fits in my arms.
I spendthe next half hour holding this sleeping beauty, watching over her to make sure she’s okay. Eventually, I doze off only to be startled by bright lights and a sense of falling.
Opening my eyes, memories of my situation return. Brooke is still wrapped around me, fast asleep. The good news is that the power is working again, and the elevator is descending.
I whisper, “We’re moving. Wake up now.” I need her alert, so I can send her home in a taxi.
Nothing. She’s not waking.
Her address will be on her ID. I need to find her handbag. Looking around, I don’t see it. Actually, I don’t think she had one when she stepped into the lift. A lanyard attached to a plastic pouch hangs around her neck. The pouch holds a badge with her photo and first name in bold letters, along with a credit card. She must’ve planned to return to her office to retrieve her handbag after having drinks with the interns.
I’m not sure what to do. I can’t leave her asleep in the lift. The hotel reception won’t know anything about her, since she’s notstaying there. I didn’t notice which floor we were on when she first stepped into the lift.
Shite. What am I going to do with her?
